


You're Still You

by Dirty_Corza



Series: After All [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sex, Smut, Tentacles, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men hide their other self's for very different reasons, what happens when they reveal themselves to eachother?</p><p>[here's a hint, it includes the words "tentacle" and "sex"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Still You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Random_Nexus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nexus/gifts).



Everyone had an Other Self. A second form, something unique to them. Some claimed it was God showing how each was an individual. Some claimed it was dormant genes revealing themselves. The God people had the popular vote on it, since there was yet to be any sign of certain families having the same representations throughout.

John hadn’t let anyone see his Other Self since he had gotten back from the war. He wasn’t ashamed of it, no, the general consensus about his was that it was remarkable, beautiful even. But he didn’t fancy getting stopped on the street to bless children, like he had when he was a child, before he could control when the wings appeared. Nor did he fancy being reminded of his army days when he would be required to change before they went into battle, to inspire courage, even if it did cost him the safety that being a medic usually held.

So when he moved in with Sherlock at Baker Street, he didn’t find it at all strange to live with someone he’d never seen the Other Self of. He knew what it was like to have an Other Self you didn’t like to share. His own only ever came out during nightmares about the war, now, when his emotions were overwhelming him.

As time went on, though, he found himself wanting to show Sherlock. At least, they wanted to be shown to this crazy, wonderful man that appeared in more of his dreams than Afghanistan did these days. He’d feel twinges in his back when Sherlock sat with him on the couch, when their shoulders brushed as they past, when Sherlock was in danger. He was sure Sherlock noticed something was up, but he never mentioned it, a fact for which John was very grateful.

The day Sherlock nearly got himself killed, John hadn’t been able to control it. They had come out when he knelt over his flatmate’s body, they had refused to be hidden when he took the unconscious form into his arms to carry him home. People had stared -an angel carrying a man, walking through the streets of London- but he hadn’t cared. This was Sherlock, and when it came to him, it seemed John really didn’t care what anyone else thought.

So it was that Sherlock awoke to the sight of white wings on John’s back, and the other man asleep sitting in a chair next to his bed. “They’re more beautiful than I imagined.” he whispered, fingers reaching out to gently caress them, coaxing a pleased hum from John, and causing him to blink his eyes open as he woke from the light sleep.

“Sherlock? You’re awake. Oh god, don’t do that, don’t go running off to a fight without me, I don’t want you to be dead next time.” John bit back a groan as Sherlock continued to stroke his wing, his eyes looking to Sherlock, begging him for something, something more, so much it made Sherlock’s breath catch in his throat.  
“Yes, yes, of course, wait for you at fights. But John. This, I want, but you’re so beautiful. I’m not, I don’t want you to be disgusted with me John. What do I do?”  
John leaned forward, pressing his lips to Sherlock’s, “Don’t care about pretty. Care about you. If-if you’re willing, then I’d love to. If not, I’ll leave now. You don’t have to show me anything. You don’t owe it to me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock pressed back into the kiss, tugging at John’s clothing until he was on top of him, until they were pressed together there. “I just don’t want you to run away screaming, John.”

“I promise I won’t, Sherlock. Please?”

Sherlock studied his face for a moment before giving a nod, pulling John in for a kiss as his body shuddered. The next thing John knew, he was naked his clothing torn off him by some of the many tentacles that seemed to make up Sherlock now. “Oh.” he whispered. He’d never seen someone with an Other Self so completely different before. Not humanoid at all, just a mass of wonderful, slightly slick tentacles that caressed his body in wonderful ways, so many wonderful ways, he couldn’t stop the pleased moan, he didn’t want to as he pressed his bare skin closer to Sherlock.

/John~/ Sherlock’s voice rumbled through his head as the tentacles ran over his skin, caressing him everywhere. Long ones traced his wings, a thicker pair teased at his ass, a perfectly phallic one presented itself at his lips to be sucked. 

John complied with every demand, every gentle nudge to get himself into a better position, to give Sherlock more access. He helped fuck himself on Sherlock’s tentacles, sucked him hard, crying out around the one in his mouth when he felt a different one go down on his cock. This one was made to be fucked, to be thrust into, a wet, tight heat, though it held its own surprise, the thinnest tentacle on Sherlock’s body, that found its way down his urethra.

John shuddered with it all, full, so full of Sherlock at last, and it was so, so much better than he’d ever imagined it would be. /John, so perfect, John/ Sherlock’s voice rumbled through his mind, sounding just as consumed by this as John felt. He whimpered around the tentacle in his mouth as Sherlock went deeper, a third and fourth tentacle joining the others in his ass, a second thin tentacle joining the one fucking his cock. 

It really shouldn’t have felt so good, in theory, at least, it should have been at least a little painful, but nothing registered in John’s brain other than complete and utter pleasure. /John, John, Jooohn!/ Sherlock’s voice in his head is screaming out his pleasure, and John can feel it when every single tentacle shudders, shooting something -it can’t all be sperm, can it?- in him, on him, and his own body reacts to it, shuddering with pleasure, and it hurts, because his dick is still plugged with the thin tentacles, but it’s also so much more intense than he’d ever known it could be.

Most of the tentacles relax around him, the ones in his ass and mouth slipping out to cradle him to the mass as he suddenly realizes he’s tired, that the fucking took so much out of him he’s just exhausted as he falls asleep in Sherlock’s embrace.

When he awakens, it isn’t to tentacles embracing him, it’s to Sherlock’s gentle mouth on his cock his cock that had last been filled with Sherlock’s release, and John’s that hadn’t been able to get out, dear god, it was like Sherlock had done it on purpose, just so he’d be able to do this, wake John up with a blow job that could, conceivably, end with John releasing both their loads into his mouth. 

“Sherlock!” John cried out, his body unable to hold back as he ejaculated into Sherlock’s mouth, overwhelmed by it all. He pulled the other man up to him when he had control of his limbs once more, snuggling close around him. “You’re so fucking perfect. All of you. Every you. Thank you.”


End file.
